


The Mouth On Him

by tinymacaroni



Series: Witcher smut [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bratty Jaskier | Dandelion, Gentle Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Safeword Use, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinymacaroni/pseuds/tinymacaroni
Summary: Dialogue prompts from @palettes-and-prompts on tumblrThe witcher's eyes narrowed in a scowl, and he snarled. "I bet you think you're awfully cute, letting them put their hands all over you like that. Let's see how cute you are when I get you upstairs." He stood to get another ale, but on his way to the bar he ran a hand into Jaskier's hair and gave a sharp tug, not too hard, but enough to remind the little shit who was in charge here. He smirked when he heard Jaskier's breath hitch, and when he returned to the table, he could tell the bard's heart was still racing. Geralt knew this little game of theirs well by now, and he usually won.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher smut [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660198
Comments: 13
Kudos: 424





	The Mouth On Him

Geralt drained his third tankard of ale, or whatever passed for ale in this godsforsaken town, and watched Jaskier as he traipsed through the room, weaving between tables and strumming and singing. The witcher didn't miss the wandering hands, drunken fools groping at Jaskier with clumsy hands, and if he was being honest, it pissed him off. Less out of a possessive instinct - though that was certainly a factor too - and more because they never asked, never even  _ talked _ to him before reaching their greedy hands out to grab whatever flesh and fabric they could. It was disgusting, and he was sick of having to watch it, but he refused to take his eyes off of Jaskier; the last time he'd left the bard alone in an inn he'd been beaten bloody, and Geralt would not risk his safety again. So he watched, ordering another ale for himself and a cup of wine for Jaskier. The bard passed by his table as often as he was reasonably able to, all clever winks and devilish grins. Once, he even sat  _ on _ their table, taking a drink of the wine between verses of a song and twirling a lock of the witcher's white hair around his finger as he resumed singing.

When he was finally done singing, he took his seat next to Geralt, tucking into his food and wine, but pausing every so often as an onlooker came up to toss him a coin or two. He grinned and flirted with each and every one of them, and Geralt felt his blood running hot under his skin. After one such spectator got a full kiss on the hand, Geralt tugged Jaskier close by the collar, scowling.

"Yes, dear?" Jaskier seemed utterly unperturbed by the manhandling, which just irritated Geralt further.

Geralt leaned in close, growling deeply. "If you keep acting like a little brat, I'll take you over my knee right here. I don't care how many people are watching." It was with no small amount of satisfaction that he could feel Jaskier's pulse quicken, see his skin flush, but the bard held his composure.

"Is that a threat, or a promise...Sir?" He smirked, throwing the witcher his cheekiest wink as he settled back into his chair, looking  _ far _ too smug for Geralt's liking. 

The witcher's eyes narrowed in a scowl, and he snarled. "I bet you think you're awfully cute, letting them put their hands all over you like that. Let's see how cute you are when I get you upstairs." He stood to get another ale, but on his way to the bar he ran a hand into Jaskier's hair and gave a sharp tug, not too hard, but enough to remind the little shit who was in charge here. He smirked when he heard Jaskier's breath hitch, and when he returned to the table, he could tell the bard's heart was still racing. Geralt knew this little game of theirs well by now, and he usually won.

Jaskier finished the rest of his meal quickly, but still paused to flirt whenever someone offered their coin. He could feel Geralt's gaze, hot on the back of his neck, whenever he turned to smile up at some gent or lady who complimented his lyrics or his playing. He loved to play up his perpetually-youthful charm, not in the least because he knew it always got a rise out of his usually stoic witcher.

The moment his plate and cup were both empty, Geralt stood and grabbed his arm roughly. He followed up the stairs and to the room they had rented for the night, and the door slammed shut as he was shoved up against it. Geralt mouthed at his neck, biting and sucking bruises he knew would last a week or more, kissing and nipping at every bit of skin he could reach.

"You," he panted between bites, "are  _ infuriating _ ."

"I'm sure I - ah - have no idea what you -  _ fuck _ \- mean, love." Jaskier had already been half hard from the teasing down in the bar, and now he could feel his cock straining against his trousers, groaning when Geralt rolled his hips up to rut against him.

"Oh I'm sure you do." Geralt tore his doublet open, eliciting yet another gasp from Jaskier - this one of indignant fury.

"That was  _ expensive, _ you daft fuck!" Jaskier shoved at him, slipping from his grasp and crossing his arms. "If you wanted me naked, you could have just  _ said _ so."

"I want you -" Geralt stepped back to sit on the bed, legs spread invitingly. "- on your  _ knees _ ." His voice had taken on a dangerous edge to its usual rasp, and Jaskier followed him to the bed and dropped to his knees without a second thought. He palmed at Geralt's cock through black fabric, torn doublet hanging open. Geralt groaned, settling a hand into the bard's soft locks, tightening his grip just enough to pull a soft whimper from Jaskier. "Take that off, it's in tatters." He gestured at the doublet, and chuckled at the scowl Jaskier threw his way.

"Gee, I wonder whose fault  _ that _ could be." Regardless, he complied, stripping the ruined garment off and tossing it to the side, goosebumps rising on his skin at the slight draft from the creaky inn's window.

"Mouthy tonight, aren't we?" Geralt tugged his hair sharply, pulling him forward just a bit. "I can think of much better uses for that pretty little mouth of yours, what do you think?"

"I think," Jaskier leaned back on his heels and put on his most innocent expression. "That you have no appreciation for my wit."

"Oh, is that what you call it?" Geralt snorted. "If you can't keep quiet, why don't you - oh,  _ fuck, _ " Geralt broke off as Jaskier leaned in, taking the top of the black bulge into his mouth, still staring up at the witcher with those wide, innocent eyes - though the innocent effect was dampened somewhat by his pupils, blown wide with arousal as they were.

Geralt undid the laces of his breeches with one hand, and Jaskier pulled them down, his cock twitching as it was freed. Jaskier wrapped a hand around the base, kissing up the length of it before taking the head into his mouth. Geralt's head fell back in pleasure and his hand tightened in Jaskier's hair as the bard sucked lightly, taking more of him into his mouth. He bobbed his head, the witcher's cock heavy on his tongue, his taste thick in the back of Jaskier's throat. His eyes closed as he took as much as he could into his mouth and throat, focusing on the taste and feel of him, the small sounds of pleasure coming from above. When he opened his eyes again, Geralt was leaning back on one arm, watching him with naked adoration in his eyes. He pulled back and released the witcher's cock with an obscene "pop," running his tongue up the length and letting the head of his cock slip, smearing his cheek with precum. "Oops," he grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. His voice was just a touch hoarse from the cock down his throat, and Geralt groaned, eyes fluttering closed briefly as he took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure despite the incredible sight before him.

"Fuck, Jaskier…"

"Yes?" Again, he batted his eyes innocently, a sharp contrast against the cock in his hand and the sticky mess on his cheek.

"You're hot as fuck. You keep on like that, I'm gonna cum soon."

Jaskier grinned, knowing a challenge when he heard one. He redoubled his efforts, tongue laving over every inch of his cock before taking it back into his mouth. Geralt's hips began to buck quickly, and Jaskier sucked, swallowing it back down into his throat. Gerslt's hand tightened in his hair once more, pulling desperately, and he dragged his free hand over the inside of his thigh and along his hip, aching to get his hands all over the witcher. He felt Geralt seize up beneath him, heard him swear violently, and then felt his cock pulse as he groaned, clawing his own free hand over the sheets. Jaskier swallowed most of it, a thin trickle of cum dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Geralt lay panting on the bed, but pushed himself up to sit, looking at Jaskier and running a hand through his hair, gentler this time.

"Look at you, my little lark. All messy from sucking my cock, such a good little songbird." Geralt moved his hand to cup Jaskier's cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the line of cum trailing from his plush lips. He pressed the digit into Jaskier's mouth, and the bard obediently licked it clean, staring up into the witcher's golden eyes. He released it with another "pop," as obscene as the last one if not quite as loud, and arched a brow challengingly up at Geralt. "Hmm. Looks like someone still hasn't quite learned his lesson," the witcher remarked.

He stood and strode over to where their bags lay, instructing Jaskier as he walked. "Strip and lay down on the bed, however you like." He returned to the bed to find the bard stretched out on his back, circling each of his pebbled nipples with a fingertip, cock standing proud between his legs, the tip already glistening with precum. "Turn over," he said simply.

"But you said however I like." Jaskier's mouth turned down in a pout that had no business being as sexy as it was.

"That I did. You, however, have been acting like a little brat all night - so I'm going to treat you like one. And brats don't get to be fucked how they choose, they get to be fucked how  _ I _ choose. Now turn over." 

Jaskier grumbled quietly, but rolled onto his stomach, shifting his knees under him and silently thanking the inn for providing soft mattresses. He lifted his ass in the air, and felt Geralt's broad hand running over the smooth skin - then felt a sharp slap in that same spot. He gasped, his cock pulsing where it hung below him, his legs spreading just a little wider. The next slap came, exactly where the first one had landed, and he couldn't contain the whimper that slipped from his throat.

"Needy little fucker, aren't you?" Geralt smacked him again, still with that almost eerie precision. "Do you know how many people you flirted with downstairs?" Jaskier shook his head, not trusting his voice to speak. "Well luckily, I do. I kept track. And I'm going to hit you once for each and every one of them." Another smack, and another, and Jaskier whimpered again - he really  _ didn't _ remember how many people he had… spoken to, downstairs, which meant he didn't know when the punishment would end. It was simultaneously frightening and  _ incredibly _ arousing. After the tenth with no real sign of stopping, though, fear began to win out.

"Wait, Geralt, stop-  _ Posada _ ," he blurted out, and instantly the spankings ceased.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Geralt moved from behind him, kneeling beside the bed so he could see his face.

"I'm sorry, this is very hot, but...can you tell me, just real quick, how many times you are actually going to hit me?"

"Oh." Geralt paused, slightly taken aback. "Well, there were 24 people, so 14 more in theory, but I can stop if you need." Worry creased his brow, and he reached up to run his hand softly through Jaskier's hair.

"No no, that's quite alright - wait, really, 24? Wow." He let out a low whistle, pleased in spite of himself with his own popularity, and earned an exasperated look from Geralt. "Sorry, I really am fine, love, it was just the not knowing." He reached for the witcher's face, using his thumb to smooth the worry line that stubbornly remained. "I promise. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, of course. Just...worried I'd hurt you, is all." A flash of guilt passed over Geralt's face, and Jaskier pulled him close, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

"You did nothing wrong, my love." Geralt nodded, reassured, and pulled Jaskier into a much less chaste kiss. The bard grinned once they (well, mostly he) had to part for air. "So...I believe it was 14 more, you said? Better get to it, I've been  _ awfully _ naughty after all." Geralt rolled his eyes, but smoothed a hand over his hair one last time before returning to his place behind him on the bed. He kissed the red mark on his arse once, gently, then picked right back up where he'd left off, still managing to land each hit in the exact same place. Jaskier groaned, the hot pain spreading through him, his cock jumping and dribbling precum with each jolt. Finally, it was done, and he relaxed his shoulders, closing his eyes and enjoying the cool air soothing his stinging skin. Then, he heard the sound of a cork popping free from a bottle, and instantly his toes curled with anticipation.

Geralt coated his fingers in slick, golden oil, running them lightly over Jaskier's hole and eliciting a soft moan. He teased like this until Jaskier began to whine and whimper, then slowly thrust one finger in, lazily moving it in to the base and then out to the first knuckle over and over, patiently waiting for Jaskier to adjust. When he was satisfied with the first finger, he added a second, giving him the same treatment as before, only this time he would occasionally curl his fingers forward, earning a deep groan every time he did. He introduced a third finger, moving them inside the bard until he felt he was prepped well enough.

He poured another generous amount of oil into his hand, slicking his cock and pressing his hard cock against Jaskier's entrance. He pushed forward slowly, until the whole head was inside, then waited again. He knew Jaskier  _ hated _ how slowly he started when fucking, but he didn't want to risk hurting him - and besides, this was a punishment, he may as well drive the bard a little mad with it. So he waited just a little longer than usual, then just as slowly as before began to push the rest of the way in, eyes falling shut when he was hilted in him completely, just taking a moment to enjoy Jaskier's tight heat around him.

"Would. You.  _ Move, _ " the bard hissed impatiently, his cock almost painfully hard by now.

"Little brats don't get to choose the pace at which I fuck them," Geralt reminded him. Nonetheless, he waited only a brief moment before granting his request, but he still moved slowly. He liked it slow, truth be told, and he figured he would draw this one out as long as he thought Jaskier could stand it. One hand rested on the small of Jaskier's back, the other rubbing soothingly over the red expanse of skin where his earlier punishments had been. It was a soft, gentle fuck, and Jaskier was seething.

"Could you please just get on with it already?" He hissed as a small swat landed on his tender backside, though it was nothing like the proper spankings from before.

"If you want something, you'll have to ask nicely, little lark." Geralt grinned, thoroughly enjoying the effect he was having on the bard. He pulled Jaskier's hips toward him a little, maintaining that slow, even pace, but now dragging the head of his cock firmly over his prostate on every thrust. Jaskier clutched at the pillows, panting, hardly able to  _ think _ and knowing he would cum soon if Geralt continued, and that it would not be satisfying in the slightest.

"Please," he finally whimpered, resolve cracking. 

"Please what?"

"Please,  _ Sir, _ fuck me fast and hard and jerk me off. I'm begging you." His pleas were answered immediately, the witcher finally giving him the fucking he'd been craving all night, one large, calloused hand wrapped around his swollen cock.

"There. Now was that so difficult?" Geralt smiled, feeling Jaskier begin to squirm under his hands and knowing the bard was close. He gave him one last thrust, bottoming out, and his own second orgasm of the night. It was more than enough to tip Jaskier over the edge and he came, at last, babbling half-coherently as he did.

"Oh fuck, fuck, Geralt, oh gods I can't- it's too- oh  _ fuck _ fuckfuckfuck _ Geralt _ -" His voice broke as Geralt's hand gently worked him through his orgasm, vision going white and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

When he was done, he could barely move, though he let out a small whine as Geralt pulled out from him. He let the witcher arrange him on the bed, turning him on his back and smoothing his sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. He pulled a soft rag from his pack, gently wiping most of the mess off of Jaskier and the sheets, then laid down beside the bard and pulled a blanket up to cover them both. A bath could wait until morning.

He shifted Jaskier so they were facing each other, kissing the top of his head and wrapping his arms around the slender man. "How are you feeling?"

"Good…" Jaskier murmured, head still fuzzy in that pleasant way it always was after one of these sessions. "Thirsty." Geralt sat him up, holding a skin of water to his lips, and he drank gratefully. When he was finished, he leaned into Geralt's hold, kissing his stubbled cheek. "Thank you. For stopping, when I needed you to."

"Of course, love." Endearments rarely came naturally to the witcher's tongue, but he always made the effort after scenes like this. He knew it was important. "Thank you for trusting me."

"I'll always trust you." Jaskier yawned, and Geralt gently guided him back down to the bed, reaching to turn off the oil lamp beside the bed.

"Sleep, little lark. You deserve it." He slowly stroked one hand up and down Jaskier's spine, and he drifted off easily, curling himself up against Geralt's chest. Geralt followed once he was certain Jaskier was asleep, and they spent the rest of the night like that, pressed close to one another, each feeling safe and secure in his lover's arms.


End file.
